ERedBoyd
It's all in ur head
- Joined
- Sep 18, 2022
- Posts
- 826
Dimitri Hanson was the president of the Rocky Mountain Chapter of the Devil's Crows and he studied the road that his crew was covering from Denver up into the Granby area of Colorado. Ever since he heard of the story of that crazy bulldozer shit in Granby, he opted with a vote from his crew to relocate up there way up near the tree line. His crew had chapter in the middle of that tiny little town and since they moved in, basically owned the town now.
His crew consisted of about 15 fully fledged members, 25 sponsors, and nearly double that in help and bitches along the way. They had justed finished a gun run which they did once a month or so between Pueblo, Colorado and Cheyenne Wyoming as part of a charter thing with a few of the other gangs as part of a network of traffickers that ran drugs and guns from Mexico into Canada of all places. It didn't matter to them so long as the money was good and the money was fucking amazing!!!
Yet there was no place like home he thought to himself as they drove up the winding Rocky mountain roads which had miles and miles of literally nothing but road and forest... His mind was on a certain little slut he kept at the little clubhouse of theirs. Most of the men in his crew had homes and families embedded in the town with homes and ol'ladies of their own, but many of his crew were flying solo and crashed regularly at the clubhouse as well. He had crew that was part of the town council as well the local PD and sheriffs on his payroll. He had financed a strip club, a couple of bars, as well as half a dozen new businesses as well. Needless to say, he had a LOT of pull in the town and city and when he boasted that he owned that little town, everyone knew it.
So it was as he made a turn on a particularly sharp curve in the road did he saw that little pink Volkswagen convertible off on the side of the road and the hot little number bent over the engine of the car as he poured steam from the radiator, he whispered, threw his hand up and they began to slow down to... offer a hand...
His crew consisted of about 15 fully fledged members, 25 sponsors, and nearly double that in help and bitches along the way. They had justed finished a gun run which they did once a month or so between Pueblo, Colorado and Cheyenne Wyoming as part of a charter thing with a few of the other gangs as part of a network of traffickers that ran drugs and guns from Mexico into Canada of all places. It didn't matter to them so long as the money was good and the money was fucking amazing!!!
Yet there was no place like home he thought to himself as they drove up the winding Rocky mountain roads which had miles and miles of literally nothing but road and forest... His mind was on a certain little slut he kept at the little clubhouse of theirs. Most of the men in his crew had homes and families embedded in the town with homes and ol'ladies of their own, but many of his crew were flying solo and crashed regularly at the clubhouse as well. He had crew that was part of the town council as well the local PD and sheriffs on his payroll. He had financed a strip club, a couple of bars, as well as half a dozen new businesses as well. Needless to say, he had a LOT of pull in the town and city and when he boasted that he owned that little town, everyone knew it.
So it was as he made a turn on a particularly sharp curve in the road did he saw that little pink Volkswagen convertible off on the side of the road and the hot little number bent over the engine of the car as he poured steam from the radiator, he whispered, threw his hand up and they began to slow down to... offer a hand...
